The Youngsters of Yorkshire
by njbrennan
Summary: Modern A/U: Single parents Edith Crawley and Anthony Strallan have never met. After Edith moves back to Yorkshire, she sends her daughter to the same primary school as Anthony's son, where these two youngsters will befriend one another and devise a plan to get their parents to fall in love at any cost, with quite a few tumbles along the way! All characters belong to Fellowes.
1. Sprout and Rabbit

A/N: Happy New Year, dear friends! I've had this little story floating around in my brain for a few months and thought I'd put it to paper now that I'm on break! So far, I have it slated for just a few chapters, nothing too strenuous, and it will basically be all fluff!

In this story, Edith and Anthony are both single parents to their seven-year-old children. This first chapter will be an introduction, with Edith and Anthony playing a more prominent role in future chapters. I really enjoy writing Rowan in my other story, _Now and Then_, and thought that I would likewise enjoy writing a whole story about little kiddos even more!

Anyway, I hope you like it! I'd love to hear from you about it :D

* * *

In a humble, gingerbread manor nestled deep in the heart of Yorkshire lived a pair of lanky, blond-haired, blue-eyed gentlemen, father and son, as the story would have it. They lived alone, undisturbed by much, and got along as thickly as thieves. It was just the two of them facing this scary, cruel world on their own, but they had each other and that counted for a whole lot.

"Vincent, come down here and eat your breakfast!" Anthony Strallan hollered after his son as he scrambled some eggs over the stove, a dishtowel draped casually over his shoulder. "Your toast is going cold, young man!"

In a frenzied whirlwind, Vincent Strallan, aged 7, rushed down the stairs and tumbled into Locksley Manor's massive kitchen. His blond hair, as wavy and unruly as his father's, still hadn't been brushed and his school uniform was in disarray: a missing sock here, an undone tie there.

"Good morning, Papa!" Vincent chirped as his father scooped some scrambled eggs from the frying pan and set them on his plate. He munched happily on toast and eggs, dribbling some orange juice on his grey and green school sweater, completely oblivious to the mess he made. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a gazillion eggs!"

"A gazillion? Really? Well, I'm not sure we'll be able to honor your request, Master Vincent," Anthony teased, tousling the boy's already messy locks.

Vincent stopped chewing his eggs for a moment and pondered, titling his head for the full effect. "Hmm, okay, Papa. Maybe just a bazillion, then!"

Anthony chuckled as he sat down to eat his own breakfast. "I'm not sure if that's more or less, really. Regardless, we're going to have to do something about that mop on your head and that uniform of yours. I thought we talked about looking nice for your first day of school, sprout."

Vincent groaned. He was not fond of his school uniform and even less fond of brushing his hair. He much preferred running through Locksley's endless grounds with a tee shirt and shorts and his green Hunter boots while he and his father surveyed the estate, the latter doing far more actual work than the former, who mostly tried to catch bugs and got mud on his clothes. In fact, if today wasn't his first day of school, that's precisely what they would be doing, as it had been what the two of them had done all summer long.

Accepting the silence that followed as a small victory, Anthony sipped some tea and glanced up from his morning edition of the _London Times_ to watch his son eat his breakfast. Vincent looked just like Anthony did when he was his age, all limbs and untameable blond hair and the same charming, crooked smile. But their personalities were worlds apart. Anthony, mild-mannered as he was, was far more bookish and calm than his son, seldom quick to excitement and always finding prolonged social engagement to be uncomfortable. Vincent, on the other hand, was the tamest version of feral Anthony could think of. His son was rambunctious, always pulling pranks on his father, or on his Aunt Jane and his cousins when they came to visit from the States. He was squirrelly, too, often running around Locksley's grounds with abandon and getting into mischief. But he was a sweetheart, too, and quite bright; too bright, at times, with a wit as sharp as his father's.

It had been just the two of them, these two Strallans, for as long as Vincent could remember. He knew of no other world than the one he and his father inhabited at Locksley Manor.

Anthony, however, remembered exactly how long it had been just him and Vincent. He remembered it with particularity.

Before Vincent was born, Anthony had been married to his wife, Maud, for eight years. In the beginning, their marriage was easy and uncomplicated. He worked on his estate and at the agricultural equipment factory he had inherited from his grandfather, she organized charity events that were all the rave in Yorkshire, and the two married Strallans were rather content with their busy lives. But as their anniversaries grew in number, both Anthony and Maud felt that there was something missing in their lives.

So, they started trying for a little one. But what should have been simple turned out to be anything but simple. The Strallans had trouble conceiving, and after countless doctors visits and injections and intimacy schedules, they had almost given up hope. Soon, their fertility woes became almost all that they talked about and certainly all that they argued about. Their once happy and effortless marriage seemed unsalvageable.

Until one day, while Anthony was busily working on some ledgers for the estate, Maud came into the library and set a positive pregnancy test on his desk. They were both overjoyed. Perhaps this would be the change that their marriage so desperately needed.

But their joy did not last much longer. Their relationship had been damaged during those long, stressful years of infertility. The two once happily married Strallans had grown apart and despite the little one growing in Maud's womb, there was very little that connected them anymore.

Then, on a warm day in late July, Maud gave birth to a son, Vincent Philip, giving Anthony the child and heir he never thought he would have. But the distance between the new parents was still a great chasm, one that grew as their little one did and Maud began to feel that motherhood was not what she had envisioned it to be during those long, seemingly unending years of infertility.

One night, as Anthony awoke to the sounds of his two-month-old son crying out for his nightly feeding, he found a note on Maud's side of the bed. She had left him. She had left _them._ She simply couldn't do it any longer.

From that night on, it was just Anthony and Vincent.

But now, seven years later, on this the day that Vincent was to start Year 2 at Ripon Primary, Anthony couldn't envision any other life for himself. Maud was but a distant memory, one that was overshadowed by the closeness he shared with his son.

And as he watched Vincent spill another rather large amount of orange juice on his grey uniform sweater, Anthony chuckled to himself and offered his hand to the little boy. "Come on, little sprout, let's get you all cleaned up for your first day of school," he offered warmly, fetching a napkin to wipe the boy's mouth and dab at the wet, woolly sweater.

"Papa, do I have to go to school?" Vincent groaned as he reached for his father's hand and they walked through Locksley's grand entryway up towards his bedroom. "I want to stay here with you. We can run and play in the fields like we did all summer. Pretty, pretty please?"

Anthony silently shook his head, amused at how his son still wanted to spend all his time with him; it wouldn't be long now that Vincent would begin to approach those ghastly teenage years and want nothing to do with his stuffy old papa. "Now, Vincent, where's this sudden dislike of school coming from? I thought you loved going to school and learning from your teachers."

They made their way into Vincent's bedroom, all cluttered with toys and books, and looking as though a swirling dervish had made a right mess of the place. Anthony went to the dresser and fished out a clean sweater, pulling the orange juice-soaked one over Vincent's head.

"Because I like staying here with you, Papa. I don't like anyone at school," the little boy replied in a soft tone that Anthony didn't often hear; it took him by surprise and their blue eyes caught each other. Vincent was an energetic sort, one that almost never seemed calm or timid. But that voice, it seemed almost…sad.

"You don't like anyone? Why not?" Anthony asked as he crouched down to Vincent's level and began tying his green and yellow school tie.

"Because…because they don't like me," Vincent whispered, looking away from his father as if in shame.

Stunned, Anthony ceased his work on the tie and grabbed each of his son's hands into his own. It seemed that Vincent, just like his father, was cursed with that Strallan awkwardness that had plagued Anthony for years. While good-natured and kind, they were often just a touch out of step with the rest of the world, far too engrossed in books or nature to appeal to others in any deep or long-lasting way. Throughout his childhood, Anthony's friends had been few in number, though good in substance, and he had almost no standing with women in any sort of way. It was a miracle that Maud had even given him a second look.

Now, it seemed that his son was destined to be as awkward as he. Anthony pulled Vincent into his embrace, tucking the little boy's head underneath his chin while he rubbed his back. "Sometimes, people can't appreciate what's right in front of them, little sprout. But it's _their_ loss. I, for one, happen to like you very much. In fact, I love you like mad!"

"More than the moon?" Vincent asked as he came out from under his father's chin, that crooked smile of his in full view. He and his father always played this sort of teasing, verbal game, asking each other if they loved one another more than something, often something wondrous and impressive. They both knew the answer already.

"More than the stars," Anthony whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of Vincent's messy blond hair. "And who knows, sprout, maybe there'll be a new student in your class this year who will become your very best friend!"

* * *

"Eloise, where on earth are your new school shoes? I thought I put them in the mudroom…" Edith Crawley asked her seven-year-old daughter. They were due at school in less than half an hour and she had yet to get her daughter properly dressed for her first day. The little girl, however, was completely unfazed by her mother's frantic search for her shiny, new Mary Jane shoes, as she was currently sitting in their living room glued to _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_, reading it for at least the third or fourth time this year.

Eloise sat cross-legged in her favorite reading chair nestled near the fireplace of their new cottage, biting her lower lip as Peter tried to escape from Mr. McGregor's garden. She knew what would happen, of course she did, but she was engrossed all the same.

"Eloise, come help me look for your shoes, or I'll pour chamomile tea on your head!" Edith hollered, hoping to tear her daughter away from Ms. Potter's words. It was an unlikely prospect, however; Eloise, even at seven, was as voracious of a reader as Edith was. But the little girl was starting her first day at Ripon Primary this morning as a Year 2 student and her mother wouldn't allow her to be late. First impressions were rather important in her book.

The two Crawley ladies had moved from London to Yorkshire over the summer, finding a quaint little cottage just outside of Ripon and only a fifteen minute drive to Edith's parents' grade estate of Downton Abbey. Many years ago, after graduating from Cambridge with a degree in literature, Edith moved to London to pursue a career as a book editor, hoping to take Big Smoke by storm. But not too long after getting settled in London, Edith started an affair with the senior editor at her publishing house, a dashing married man named Michael Gregson. It was exciting and scandalous and wrong, even if Edith never wanted to admit it to herself.

A night with too much tequila and not enough protection resulted in a pregnancy, and nine months later, Eloise Josephine Crawley entered the world, all blonde hair with just a hint of strawberry red and just a few weeks later, with eyes as dark as the earth, as dark as her mother's.

Michael wanted little to do with Edith after he learned of her pregnancy; it was too much of a threat to his reputation and to his marriage. And so Edith and Eloise were on their own.

Even without Michael, they made a good go of it, this mother and daughter pair. They were immensely close, both in outward appearance and in temperament, each Crawley adoring books and drawing and tickle fights to no end. On any given weekend, Edith and Eloise could both be found still in their pajamas, snuggling under the covers together, each with a good, well-worn book, and perfectly content to spend lazy days in lazy ways.

Over the summer, Edith made the decision to move back to her native Yorkshire, hoping to get away from the hustle and bustle of London for a quieter, simpler, country life so she could focus on the children's book series she had been fiddling with for years. They'd also be closer to her family, but whether that was a blessing or a curse had yet to be known.

"Eloise, please get up and help me search for your shoes. We're going to be late if we can't find them," Edith urged with motherly sternness as she walked into the living room, just about ready to take the book away when she noticed that Eloise already had her Mary Jane shoes on her little feet.

"Oh, these, Mummy? I had them on ages ago," Eloise replied as though it was so obvious that she had been wearing them all along. Typical of the littlest Crawley, she had been far too enthralled with her book to notice much of anything going on around her, even her mother's frantic search for her shoes, a trait she picked up from Edith and developed tenfold. It annoyed many others, and often made it hard for Eloise to make friends, but it was something that Edith cherished. Except, of course, on days when they were running late.

"Brilliant! Now, fetch your satchel. We've got to get a move on!"

Eloise nodded, rushed to the mudroom where her bag was waiting, reverently placed her Peter Rabbit book inside of it (just a bit of light reading for later), and toddled out to the car. Mother and daughter zipped along the winding roads of Ripon, whizzing past lush green meadows and fields full of grazing cows. It was so picturesque, so pleasant, the air so very warm and the sky so very blue.

They arrived outside of Ripon Primary, hundreds of schoolchildren running about just before classes were to commence. There was a flurry of activity, one that overwhelmed young Eloise.

Edith crouched down and fiddled with her daughter's new school uniform, all grey and green and yellow. She looked very proper with her skirt and tie, reminding her mother of her childhood all those years ago. But she was still such little girl, with that toothy grin and that messy hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Edith couldn't quite believe that she was already in Year 2.

"I'm going to miss you, little rabbit," she cooed quietly, squeezing her daughter's hands and rubbing them with her thumbs. "It might be a little difficult being the new girl at school, but just keep your head up high and be kind and know that I'll be here in just a few short hours to pick you up."

Eloise blinked away what looked to be the start of hot tears. "Mummy, I'm scared. What if no one likes me?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Who could not like you? You're Eloise! In fact, I'm sure there's someone in there right now hoping that they'll meet someone like you, little rabbit."

Her dark eyes, so like her mother's, widened and the tears were tentatively put at bay. "Really? Do you think so?"

"They'd be silly not to. And if you feel down, I snuck a little someone in your satchel," Edith explained warmly, nudging her head down towards the bag near Eloise's feet.

The little girl bent down, unzipped it, and within an instant, she recognized her very best friend.

"Peter Rabbit!" she exclaimed. Edith was quite aware of her daughter's near obsession with the mischievous rodent and for Eloise's birthday this past year, she gave her a stuffed Peter Rabbit doll, with the same light blue jacket and long carrot. Needless to say, Eloise carried it with her at all hours of the day.

But as she looked around at the scores of excited children running about before school, her mood shifted. "Mummy, I can't bring Peter to school with me. All the other kids will think I'm a baby for bringing my bunny."

Edith was rather surprised to hear this from her little one: Eloise and Peter were nearly inseparable. And Eloise was never one to care what others thought of her.

"Well, don't let Peter hear that. I'm sure he'd be very upset!" Edith teased, tickling Eloise in the tummy, the girl giggling until her whole face lit up. "How about we keep him in your bag and you can visit him when no one's looking, okay?"

"Like a secret?"

Edith smiled and pecked a kiss on her daughter's cheek. "Oh, yes. We won't tell a soul. Just between you, me, and this silly rabbit!"

* * *

The school bell rang and all the youngsters filed into Ripon Primary to start their first day of school. It was supremely noisy, all of the children catching up with friends they hadn't seen all summer long, and teachers hollering after them to make their way to their respective classrooms.

Vincent Strallan, however, was far from glad to be back at school. Oh, he loved learning, make no mistake; some of his favorite moments were those spent on his father's lap as they read all sorts of books, and those when his father took him to the family factory and explained the machines and how they worked to him. But Vincent loathed coming to school, away from his papa, away from those who understood and cared for him the most.

He slumped down at his table and pulled out his new pencil bag, fully equipped with two-dozen colored pencils and erasers and crayons, and laid them out on the table, counting them lazily.

So preoccupied was he in his task that Vincent hardly noticed more students shuffling into the classroom, and certainly did not notice an unfamiliar girl sit next to him at the table. He just kept his blue eyes focused on his pencils, his head slumped along the heel of his hand.

Eventually, however, his teacher, one Mrs. Anna Bates, came up to the table and introduced herself to the little girl sitting next to Vincent.

"Hi, there, Eloise. I'm Mrs. Bates, your new teacher. I understand you just moved here with your mum all the way from London, isn't that right?" she asked with such sweetness.

Eloise nodded, barely making eye contact with anyone around her. She was awfully nervous in this new and strange place.

Mrs. Bates smiled at the shy girl, even if she didn't see it. Sometimes it was enough to hear the smile in a person's voice. "Good. Well, we want you to feel at home here, Eloise, so if you have any questions, you can ask me, all right?"

Again, Eloise nodded.

"And how about we get one of the other kids who have been here before to show you around?" she asked, looking around at the small table of little ones. Though Mrs. Bates didn't know any of her students yet, she had a keen eye for children's dispositions. The twin boys across the table were already jostling, even at this early hour, and the little girl next to Eloise had smeared glue on her hands, however she had managed to get a hold of that already. It was going to be a very long year. But the blond boy sitting next to her, silently counting his colored pencils, seemed docile enough.

"How about you…" she paused to read the name tag taped to his desk. "Vincent? Would you mind showing Eloise here around the school today during lunch and recess?"

Vincent looked up at his new teacher and at this new girl sitting next to him. "Oh, ummm, yes, Mrs. Bates," he stammered. She smiled at him with appreciation and walked off to prepare for her lessons, leaving Vincent and Eloise alone at this table full of rascals.

He fidgeted with a red colored pencil in his little hands, thinking of what to say. After a time, he managed, "Hi, I'm Vincent Strallan, but you can just call me Vincent. Or Sprout, but only my papa calls me that…"

Eloise looked up at him, biting her lip and wishing very much that she had her Peter Rabbit with her right now. "I'm Eloise Crawley," she told him.

"That's Hannah," he explained, pointing to the girl smearing glue on her hands. "And they're Oliver and Jack. I know them because we were in Year 1 together."

Eloise watched the other three children at her table; they seemed very wild and she was not too keen on wild things. She preferred the quiet of her books.

"Are they your friends?" she asked Vincent, pulling her sweater around her body, somewhat hoping that he wasn't friends with these crazy children. That might mean he was wild, too.

He shook his head. "No, I don't have a lot of friends at school. My papa is my best friend, though!"

Not well versed in socializing, Eloise didn't quite know what to say to Vincent anymore, and after a long silence, she pulled out _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ from her satchel and began reading, zoning out the rest of the world along with this blond boy sitting next to her.

Vincent, cursed with Strallan awkwardness, furrowed his brow at this sequence of events. He thought he had been really nice to Eloise, and that maybe she would want to be his friend. But maybe he was too strange for anyone other than his dear papa. In a huff, he scooped up his colored pencils, dropped them in his new pencil bag, and slumped his head on his palm yet again, waiting for their first lesson to begin.

Their morning lessons seemed to drag on, first maths and then reading, all things Vincent usually enjoyed learning when his papa taught them to him. But here, it all felt horrid. Finally, around mid-morning, the recess bell rang and after a reminder from Mrs. Bates, Vincent escorted Eloise onto the playground and showed her where the best attractions were: foursquare was always in demand, and the teeter-totter always had a line. Best bet was the tire swing or the jungle gym.

"Thank you for showing me the playground, Vincent," Eloise told him as she held onto her book with both arms, the cool Yorkshire breeze blowing through loose hairs from her ponytail.

He offered her a crooked grin in return. "Want to come play with me?" he asked, desperate for a friend. "We can play whatever you want…"

Much to his despair, Eloise shook her head. "No, thanks. I just want to read my book," she told him before skipping off to a corner of the playground to plop down with her Peter Rabbit book.

Vincent, needless to say, was crushed. He had rather taken a shine to Miss Eloise Crawley in the morning he had known her; for the most part, she seemed like a nice girl; quiet, but kind. And he liked looking at her messy strawberry curls: they reminded him of berry picking on Locksley's grounds. She was new and had no idea of his squirrelly behavior or of his difficulty making friends, so there was at least a small possibility that she'd want to befriend him. But it appeared that Eloise, like almost everyone else in his class, wanted little to do with him.

He kicked some dirt and turned on his heel to head for the jungle gym, making a straight shot for the monkey bars, his specialty. It was one of those things he could do on his own, one that didn't require a friend. On his seventh or eighth go-around across the bars, Vincent heard a shriek come from the other end of the playground.

Against the side of the school, around a corner and far from the watchful eyes of their teachers, Vincent saw a group of older children circle around Eloise, trying to yank something from her grasp. He barely had time to think before he jumped from the monkey bars and sprinted towards her, running as fast as his lanky limbs would take him.

"Hey, you stop that!" Vincent hollered at the older kids, two boys in Year 5: notorious school bullies. All the little kids knew not to mess with them, or they'd end up with scraped hands and no lunch money. "Leave her alone!"

One of the boys, a whole head taller than Vincent, shoved him aside with his elbow. "Back off, tyke! Mind your own business."

Eloise was on the verge of tears, desperately clutching onto a stuffed rabbit as she watched the scene unfold. When the other boy, shorter and stouter than his compatriot, moved towards her to snatch the bunny out of her hands, Vincent's bright eyes widened and in a flash, he jumped on the boy's back, squirming and yelling and trying to steer him away from Eloise.

The taller of the two grabbed a handful of Vincent's sweater, pulled him off, and shoved him to the ground, causing the little boy to scrape his hands and tear a hole in his new school trousers. Vincent's big blue eyes welled up with tears, but he held it together, doing his level best not to appear weak in front of the school bullies. He began to stand up and wipe the dust and dirt from his trousers when he noticed that a crowd had gathered to watch Vincent's bravery and a few teachers, including Mrs. Bates, came, too. They grabbed the two older boys by the scruffs of their collars and dragged them off to Headmaster Carson's office, their tails dragging between their legs for the scolding they were about to endure from their imposing, large-nosed principal.

"You aren't bleeding, are you, Vincent?" Mrs. Bates asked as she grabbed his hands to inspect them, turning them over and back again with great haste.

"No, Mrs. Bates. It just stings a little," he replied, trying to sound tough like a big boy. His pride was certainly inflated just a touch after defeating the school bullies and protecting Eloise. He intended to continue on with it for as long as he could get away with it.

"That was very brave of you, Vincent, but next time, please come get me first. It could be dangerous for you," she told him, trying to hide the sparkle in her eyes. Although she would never admit it, she was rather proud of Vincent Strallan for standing up to the bullies for a girl he barely knew. She'd keep an eye on this one throughout the year; that was for certain.

When she departed, Vincent turned around and saw Eloise, still clutching onto her stuffed rabbit with all the strength she could muster.

"Are you okay, Eloise?" he asked kindly, imploring her dark eyes to look at him.

She sniffled and nodded her head. "Thank you, Vincent, for helping me," Eloise told him, the fear and shock evaporating from her in small increments. "Those mean boys were trying to take away my Peter Rabbit that my mummy gave me. I knew I shouldn't have snuck him from my bag before recess."

"They're just dumb bullies," Vincent explained, trying to appear cooler than he was, as though he took on the school bullies with regularity and sent them to the headmaster's office quite often. "Don't be scared of them at all. They're just a bunch of big oafs!"

Eloise giggled and smiled at him and now seemed completely at ease. "Do you want to read Peter Rabbit with me until recess ends?" she asked him, holding out the book to him as an offering of goodwill. It was just a simple question, one that required a simple answer, so she wasn't quite sure why Vincent looked so surprised by her offer.

What Eloise didn't know, however, was that this was the first time another child had wanted to play with Vincent in all his time at Ripon Primary, that the kids usually kept their distance from this strange and squirrelly boy, that he often spent recess alone. Most days he was content to play in his own little world, but it got lonely from time to time.

Now, it seemed as though he might have a friend after all.

He beamed up at Eloise, his smile no longer crooked but stretching across his whole face. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I love Peter Rabbit! My papa sometimes reads that to me before bedtime."

They settled against the brick schoolhouse wall, their legs folded and their shoulders touching as each took turns reading aloud from Ms. Potter's lovely tale. It was perhaps the best recess Vincent could ever remember, even if it took a pair of scraped palms and a hole in his trousers to bring about.

He didn't want it to end, not ever. Not when the recess bell rang or at lunch or when they went home for the day. Vincent Strallan rather enjoyed having a new friend in Eloise Crawley, in having a person he might play with and read with and do all the sorts of things children are supposed to do with one another.

Vincent enjoyed it all very much, much more than he probably ought to.


	2. A Play Date

A/N: I am literally floored by all of the wonderful comments for the previous chapter! I'm so thrilled that you all enjoyed the beginning, and I hope to keep that up :D Edith and Anthony will start to play a more prominent role in this chapter and in coming chapters, but our little sprout and rabbit will be the catalysts, if you will, for the interaction between their parents!

I hope you all enjoy it! I'd love to hear from you about this one :)

* * *

The schoolyard was teeming with little ones, all clad in their new, crisp uniforms and bustling with excitement as their parents came to pick them up from their first day of the new school year. Vincent Strallan, holey trousers and scraped palms, was no exception. In fact, he looked happier than his father had ever seen him, that habitual and familial crooked smile now stretching across the entirety of the young boy's face.

"Papa! Papa!" Vincent called out to his father, precariously balancing his books and papers and his satchel in each arm as he sprinted towards the Land Rover where his papa stood waving to him. He was overjoyed by the day's events, stories of his new friend brimming within him, ready to pour out at just the slightest nudge.

With a thud, the little boy threw himself into his father's waiting arms, dropping everything he held in his arms onto the pavement without a care. Father and son held each other for a brief moment, for they both knew that Vincent had never quite been so happy about a school day, not in all his time at Ripon Primary.

"Did you have a good day at school, sprout?" Anthony asked with warmth, although he already knew the answer. The grin on his son's face gave it away. There was no question about it.

Vincent nodded into his father's chest, eventually pulling away to collect his things so they could get back to Locksley. He was keen to change out of his school uniform and romp about their fields before dinner and bedtime.

"I made a friend, Papa!" he explained enthusiastically as he climbed into the backseat. The words rolled out of him with ease, sliding out of his mouth so naturally as though it wasn't the most profound thing that had ever happened to him in all his seven years of life.

Reaching across his son to buckle him in, Anthony couldn't help but smile. Vincent had had trouble making friends, just as his father had all those years ago; nothing pained him more than seeing his little boy suffer through the same social awkwardness he had endured in his adolescence. Others simply couldn't see what a gem Vincent was: not schoolchildren, not acquaintances, not even Maud.

God bless the little one who had befriended his son, Anthony thought to himself as he made his way to the driver's seat.

"A new friend?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Vincent in the rearview mirror. The boy was positively elated. Joy just washed right over him. "Well, tell me all about your new friend, then!"

"Her name is Eloise Crawley and she's really nice," Vincent explained as he recounted the day. "We sit next to each other in Mrs. Bates' class and at recess we read Peter Rabbit stories. And then at lunch we blew bubbles with our milk and shared biscuits: she had lemon and I had chocolate. It was the best day ever, Papa! I didn't want school to end."

"My, that sounds wonderful, Vincent! I'm so happy for you, truly," Anthony told his son. In all honesty, the baronet was rather relieved that his son had found a kindred soul. He had seen how a lack of friendship had taken its toll on the little boy during his first year in school. But the girl's name…it seemed familiar somehow.

"Did you say your friend's surname was Crawley?"

Vincent nodded with energy and zeal. He was so very keen on telling his father all about his new friend; he'd talk about her all night and well into morning if he could. After all, he seldom had friends to talk about.

"Uh-huh! Eloise Crawley. She's really pretty, too. I like her hair a lot. It's like strawberries," he all but sighed in a dreamy sort of way, looking out the window at the passing Yorkshire scenery as he recalled the way the wind blew through rogue strands of Eloise's curly hair during recess.

Oh, god, that sounds like the start of a…a crush, Anthony thought to himself with alarm. I'll deal with that later; much later, preferably never.

"Crawley, hmm? And she's your age? You know, she's probably Lord Grantham's granddaughter. His daughters would be around childbearing age, I suppose," Anthony mumbled, mostly to himself. As a baronet in Yorkshire, he had met the Earl of Grantham on a few occasions: society galas and such, all very stuffy and formal affairs. Anthony was far more involved with the county before Vincent was born; raising a son on one's own often eats up time for frivolities like county gossip and networking.

But although the baronet didn't know the earl well at all, he was vaguely aware that Robert Crawley had been blessed with three very beautiful daughters. All secondhand knowledge, of course: Anthony had never actually met any of the young Crawley women, himself, but their reputations preceded them.

"Do you want to invite Eloise over one day after school?" Anthony asked, his blue eyes watching his son's reaction in the mirror as they neared Locksley.

Vincent's head tilted, seemingly out of confusion and curiosity. "Invite her for what?" he inquired.

It dawned on the baronet that his little boy had never had a friend to invite over for play dates or birthday celebrations or slumber parties. He was glad that this Eloise Crawley had popped into Vincent's life so he could enjoy those things as children are supposed to. Except for slumber parties. Not while his son was keen on the little girl's strawberry hair.

"Well, little sprout, when you're friends with someone, sometimes playing at school just isn't enough and you'd enjoy spending more time with them. So, you invite them to your house to play with your toys and such. Does that sounds like something you'd want to do with Eloise?" They pulled up to Locksley's gravel driveway, and Anthony parked the Land Rover, waiting for his son's response.

"You mean I get to play with Eloise at school _and_ at home?" Vincent asked in awe, his bright blue eyes, so like his father's, widening and sparkling.

Anthony chuckled as he got out of the car to unbuckle the little boy. "Yes, that's the general principle."

"Can we do it soon?" he urged, hopping out of the car in one swift motion. It was less of a question and more of a pronouncement that their play date ought to happen as soon as humanly possible. Tomorrow would be ideal.

Making their way into the gingerbread walls of Locksley Manor, Anthony ruffled Vincent's untamed mop of blond hair with fatherly affection. "Yes, well, in order to set up a date and time to play, I'll have to give Eloise's mum a call. I think the school sent us a new directory a few weeks ago. It should be around here somewhere…"

As excited as young Vincent Strallan was at the prospect of a play date with his new friend, Anthony had no idea that he, too, should be eager for this. Unbeknownst to him, and even to Vincent, these Crawley women were about to swoop into their lives and change them forever.

* * *

In all the years Eloise had been alive and able to talk, Edith Crawley had never known her daughter to chatter on and on about anything. The littlest Crawley was very reserved and quiet, absorbed in her world of books and stories and mischievous rabbits. But although this new side of Eloise was peculiar, Edith found herself growing fonder of it as her daughter's enthusiasm increased with each syllable uttered.

Eloise recounted to her mother the wild adventure that her first day at Ripon Primary had been, from the girl with glue on her hands to her kind teacher to the vicious bullies who tried to snatch her Peter Rabbit doll away from her.

But within her tale, one character remained constant and heroic throughout: one squirrelly, blond boy named Vincent.

The little girl told her mother all about his defeat of the two most notorious school bullies in Ripon, how all of the other children were afraid of them and how, regardless, Vincent darted towards them, jumping one boy's back until they left Eloise alone. She was almost out of breath as she filled her mother in, rattling on and on with wild abandon.

"He _jumped_ on the bully?" Edith asked her daughter, her voice inflecting for effect, as they entered their old, rickety cottage on the outskirts of Ripon. Eloise had spent the entire car ride home babbling all about this boy, Vincent, and barely once stopped to take a breath or let her mum get a word in.

"Oh, yeah, Mummy! Vincent jumped on that mean bully's back when he tried to take Peter from me! But then the teachers took those big, dumb bullies to Headmaster Carson and Vincent and I spent the rest of recess reading."

"Spent the rest of recess reading, hmm? That sure sounds like my Eloise," Edith teased her daughter, taking her satchel and books from her and placing them on the kitchen table. After a productive day of outlining for her children's book series on her part, and certainly after Eloise's successful first day at a new school, Edith thought that cookies and milk were most definitely in store for the two of them.

"So, this Vincent, he's a nice boy?" she asked her little girl as she made up a plate of chocolate biscuits and a large cup of milk.

Eloise munched into one as soon as her mother placed the plate in front of her. With chocolate dribbled on her chin and somehow, even on her cheeks, she nodded brightly. "Oh, yeah, I really like Vincent a lot! We're definitely friends now."

A warm grin spread across Edith's face. "And you were so worried earlier about not making any friends!" she exclaimed as she sat next to her daughter, tickling her belly until the little girl erupted into a fit of giggles.

"Mummy!" she tittered wildly. "Mummy, I'm ticklish!"

Edith relented, though satisfied at getting a laugh out of her little one. Tickle fights were quite common in the Crawley household and each of them took them very seriously, thank you very much.

"Well, I'm very pleased that you've made a new friend, little rabbit," she told her, reaching towards the kitchen counter to fetch a dishtowel. The chocolate that had been smeared on her daughter's face had somehow grown all around her mouth. "I knew you would. It was only a matter of time."

Eloise nodded thoughtfully, slowly and with purpose, as she pondered the bout of fortune that had come her way in making a friend in Vincent Strallan. She rather liked his peculiarity, his strange way of being, one that she seemed to like once she looked past her initial misgivings. He had appeared wild and curious at first, but Eloise had learned through the course of the day's events that Vincent was rather a gentle soul and sweet one at that. She couldn't quite wait until school the next day to see her new friend again.

Just as Edith was about to suggest that Eloise change out of her school uniform into something more comfortable so they could play outside together, the landline in the kitchen rang.

Edith stood at once to pick it up. "Oh, you know that's probably your Aunt Sybil calling me back. She and Uncle Tom and little Sybbie are coming over from Ireland soon," she spoke aloud, more to herself than to her daughter, who was rather preoccupied in dipping her cookies in her cup of milk. Picking up the telephone, she answered, "Hello, Crawley residence."

A distinctly low and masculine voice greeted her ears on the other line. "Yes, hello, is this Mrs. Crawley? Eloise's mother?"

"Yes, this is she."

The man let out a nervous chuckle, as though he were unaccustomed to speaking on the phone with regularity. "Oh, ah, jolly good. M-my name is Anthony Strallan and my son, Vincent, is in your daughter's class," Anthony explained, almost as nervous talking to a woman as his son had been to his new friend earlier that day.

"Oh, well, hello! Eloise was just telling me all about your son," Edith explained to him. There was something soothing about his timid voice, at the way he stuttered ever so slightly. Its sound put her at ease. "It appears as though he was quite the little hero at recess this morning. You should be very proud."

Another nervous chuckle. "Ah, yes, Vincent told me all about their harrowing experience just a little bit ago. Glad nothing worse befell them, though I'll have to fish out a sewing kit to mend his trousers. They're in a terrible state, all those holes already and such."

Even though Edith chuckled, Anthony realized he had started rambling. Cursed Strallan awkwardness, how it plagued him so. He collected himself and remembered the real reason he had called.

"Anyway, it seems as though our children have rather hit it off today, so Vincent and I had the idea that perhaps it might be nice if we invited Eloise over for a play date later this week. Would that be agreeable to you and your daughter?"

Her face brightened up. It was such a silly notion that Eloise thought she might not make friends when, not even a full day of being at Ripon Primary, she already had a budding friendship with a particularly sweet little boy.

"That sounds lovely, Mr. Strallan. Let me ask Eloise," she replied, turning to her chocolate-covered daughter. "Little rabbit, would you like to have a play date with Vincent later this week?"

Eloise, during her time in Reception and Year 1 while she and her mum lived in London, had never been too keen to spend a lot of time with her peers. She was content to live in her own world of books and stories, her closest companions rightly being her mother and Peter Rabbit. Other children were loud and rambunctious and certainly did not appreciate Eloise's fondness for the tranquility of her books.

So, in spite of having known Eloise all her life, familiar with all those little intricacies that made her daughter one-of-a-kind, Edith was rather surprised at her daughter's eager nodding and grinning at the prospect of a play date with Vincent. Of course, the little girl had taken a shine to young Vincent Strallan almost immediately, but Edith didn't think that such a liking would override Eloise's substantial and deep preference for solitude.

But, apparently, it did.

Chuckling in spite of herself, Edith turned back to Anthony on the other line. "Eloise and I think that would be a splendid idea, Mr. Strallan!"

Anthony exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. "That's fantastic! How about this Friday after they get out of school? We live at Locksley Manor; it's just a short drive from Ripon Primary."

"Friday afternoon it is, then. I look forward to meeting you and your son," Edith responded, eager to make the acquaintance of the young boy who had made such an impression on her daughter. And, if she were being entirely honest with herself, she was rather keen to meet the man with the soothing, low voice that put her at ease. It was such a lovely voice, after all.

"Likewise, Mrs. Crawley," Anthony concluded before saying goodbye. When he set the phone back on the receiver, unbeknownst to the Crawley girls so many miles away on the other side of Ripon, a certain little Strallan was presently bouncing all around the library of his ancestral home in the giddiest sort of way. His blue eyes, ones he had inherited from his father, were bright and overflowing with happiness. After all, it wasn't everyday that one made a new friend and scheduled his first ever play date.

Vincent couldn't quite decide which he looked forward to more: seeing Eloise at school the next day or having unfettered and uninterrupted playtime with her at the end of the week. It was a conundrum he had never faced before, but one that was supremely sublime for the little Strallan.

* * *

As far as first weeks of school come, the entirety of Vincent and Eloise's first week at Ripon Primary couldn't have been better. The two youngsters were inseparable, always seen running around the playground hand-in-hand during recess, sneaking off to read together or go down the tallest slides in the schoolyard so often that their classmates and even Mrs. Bates saw them as a unit, with one always came the other. At lunch, whatever Edith or Anthony packed for them was inevitably shared with the other to the point that one day, Vincent asked his father to pack blueberries in his lunch because they were Eloise's favorite. And each afternoon when their parents picked them up, Eloise and Vincent spoke of little else on the ride home but the other and all the sorts of adventures they got themselves into during the school day. If one gleaned anything from their conversations to their mum and dad, it was that the friendship they had found in the other was just about the greatest thing that had ever happened to either of them.

So, when Friday rolled around and all that stood between school and their play date were afternoon recess and a few classes, Vincent and Eloise experienced an elevated sort of excitement. During recess, as they dangled from the monkey-bars, Eloise took the opportunity to ask Vincent a bit about his house and what he wanted to do during their play date. She had never been to one before except with her cousins, so she didn't quite know what to expect at the Strallan household.

"Hey, Vincers, can I asked you something?" she started. Some time in the past week, nicknames had evolved between the two of them rather organically. While Vincent was decidedly 'Vincers,' her new best friend affectionately called her 'Louie.' It was something no one else called them, not their classmates and certainly not their parents, and it felt like a little secret between the two of them. Of course, it pleased them both to no end.

Vincent finished the monkey bar course with swiftness until he was back on jungle gym nearer to Eloise. He was so very quick, but when he was around his new friend, he toned down his rambunctious ways to a degree. Still, it was a streak within him that probably wouldn't ever be tamed.

"Yeah, sure, Louie! What is it?" he asked sweetly as he found an arch on the jungle gym to dangle from. Swinging back and forth with leisure, his blue eyes focused on Eloise's dark gaze.

"What are your mummy and daddy like? Are they nice?" she inquired. Eloise, while growing fonder of Vincent with each passing day, was still wary of most strangers, even if they happened to have raised the nicest friend she could have asked for.

"My papa is the best, Louie! You'll like him tons and tons, I bet!" he exclaimed, his ardent love for his father shining through so brightly. "He is super tall and he says that one day, I'll be as big as him! And he always reads me books and takes me with him when we look at Locksley's grounds. He's my best friend!"

Eloise, while smiling at first, looked almost a little offended at Vincent's declaration; she thought that _she_ was his best friend. At least, that's what he was to her. It dawned on Vincent immediately what he had said and how Eloise had reacted to it. Cursed Strallan awkwardness. He fumbled to recover.

"Ahhh, I mean my papa is my best friend who is a boy! You're my best _girl_ friend, Louie! I-I mean you're my best friend who is a girl…"

As Vincent turned as red as the strawberries he so fondly associated with Eloise's hair, the girl in question was giggling up a storm. She had never seen someone get so flustered so quickly.

"That's okay, Vincers. My mummy is my best friend who is a girl and you are my best friend who's a boy," she assured him. The little boy almost looked relieved as he let out a great sigh, hoping that this ordeal would be put behind them with haste.

"Oh, good," he murmured, thinking about any way to change the subject. He found one. "What's it like having a mummy, Louie?"

Eloise reached up to the jungle gym arch across from Vincent's, dangling from it so her feet no longer touched the ground. "Don't you have a mummy?"

He shook his head back and forth, his lips twisting. "Nope. Just my papa."

"Oh, well, I don't have a daddy, just my mummy. But that's okay. Mummy says it's 'just us girls' all the time and I like that a lot!"

"What happened to your papa?" Vincent asked her, now swinging on his arch more forcefully as he tried to reach his legs out to tap Eloise with the tip of his shoe. He was squirrelly, there was no denying it. Despite her preference for calm, Eloise rather enjoyed Vincent's wildness.

"I don't know. Mummy never talks about him."

"Well, I definitely don't have a mummy!"

Eloise snickered. "Don't be silly, Vincers! Everyone has a mummy!"

He shook his head stubbornly as though he were so very confident in his position. "Not me! My Auntie Jane always says that a big, old stork left me with my papa on my birthday when I was a baby! But I've always kind of want a mummy. Papa says he has to find one for me, but he must be really bad at looking because I'm going to be eight next year and he still hasn't found one!"

The school bell rang to signal the children to return for their final few classes of the day, so Eloise and Vincent jumped from the arches of the jungle gym and teetered back towards the building to line up. As they walked back to rejoin their classmates, Vincent asked Eloise a series of questions that would change everything.

"Do you want a papa, Louie?"

Eloise thought on this for a moment as the other schoolchildren rushed past them. Life with her mummy was so very pleasant as it was; she was never one to want to mess with a good thing. But then again, perhaps a nice, quiet papa who fancied books and snuggling as much as she and her mother did would fit rather nicely into her contented life. That sounded rather agreeable to the little girl, actually.

"Yeah, I think I'd like a daddy! But that wouldn't happen in a million years!"

A truly mischievous grin formed on Vincent's face. He was plotting. "Okay, so what if my papa became _your_ papa, and your mummy became _my_ mummy, Louie?" he proposed, feeling so very proud of himself for devising such a remarkable and ingenious plan.

Eloise stopped dead in her tracks, afternoon classes and lining up for Mrs. Bates be damned. "What?" she exclaimed. The notion was as wild as the boy.

"Well, you want a papa, and I really want a mummy. And my papa is the best papa, so you'd be super lucky to have him as yours, too!"

"That's crazy, Vincers! Our mummy and daddy don't even know each other!" she countered. It appeared, even early in their budding friendship, that Eloise was to be the voice of reason between them.

Mrs. Bates called after them, urging them into line so they could proceed back into the building for their final lessons. Eloise and Vincent ran to catch up with their class and file in line.

Vincent, standing in front of Eloise, turned around to her and with an eyebrow perfectly and mischievously arched, he whispered in the craftiest way, "Think about it Louie!"

* * *

Both of the little youngsters were distracted during their final lessons of the day, primarily because of what Vincent had proposed. While Eloise thought of the pleasant absurdity of his suggestion, Vincent's imagination ran wild, daydreaming about what it would be like to have a mummy and, most wonderfully, having Eloise around him all the time. It was the perfect plan, and one from which he would not be so easily detracted.

The school bell mercifully rang around 3:00 and soon after, both Edith and Anthony picked up their children to change out of their uniforms and get ready for their first play date.

It was still a very warm day in late August, so Anthony suggested to his son as they drove to Locksley that he wear something light in case they wanted to play outside. Vincent agreed and when they got home, he promptly shed his clothes on his way inside and sprinted up the grand staircase to change into his shorts and favorite navy tee, clearly not wanting to waste a single moment even though Eloise wasn't due at their home for another half hour.

Picking up a breadcrumb trail of his son's school uniform, Anthony couldn't help but chuckle to himself. His boy was looking forward to this more than anything he'd ever seen. He couldn't very well scold Vincent on a day like today. After all, he was just glad to see his son so happy.

This Eloise was working quick and miraculous wonders with the little boy.

The next half hour seemed to tick by at a glacial pace for poor Vincent. He was so eager for the play date to start; thirty minutes never seemed to last so long. At his wit's end, he perched himself on the arm of a sofa in the library with a clear view of the long, gravel drive of Locksley Manor and waited.

At long last, a red Mini Cooper pulled into the drive and settled in front of the gingerbread manor. Vincent all but squealed at the sight of it.

"Papa! Papa, Eloise is here!" he hollered to his father who was preoccupied with ledger work at his desk. The little Strallan ran up to him and tugged on his shirtsleeve until Anthony had no choice but to relent and follow his son into the foyer.

"All right, all right, I'm coming, sprout!" he laughed as Vincent dragged him along with such insistence. There was a gentle knock on the door and Anthony moved past his son to open it and welcome their guests into their home.

As the wide, ancient door of Locksley swung open, both Anthony and Vincent's bright blue eyes settled on the dark brown gaze of the Crawley ladies, both Strallans' mouths awkwardly agape and words struggling to form on their lips. Vincent had never seen Eloise in anything other than her school uniform. But today, he thought she looked especially pretty with her capris and sleeveless shirt, with all sorts of little purple flowers printed on it, and her strawberry hair pulled back into a messy, high ponytail. Vincent had never quite enjoyed looking at anyone the way he liked to look at Eloise. It was a phenomenon that he thought was as peculiar as it was pleasant.

Anthony, on the other hand, had never been so abruptly taken with a woman before. Edith was a vision, her long and wavy copper hair and her dark eyes enchanting him so. All sense of confidence he had possessed only a moment ago was instantly replaced by the most terrifying bout of self-consciousness he had ever known. She was bewitching and he suddenly felt very plain.

Still, it was rude to stare any longer than he already had, so Anthony cleared his throat and welcomed these lovely girls into his home.

"H-hello there! I'm Anthony, and ahhh, you must be Mrs. Crawley and Miss Eloise," he greeted with a stammer. He extended his hand to Edith, holding on for a just a second or two long than proper, and turned to Eloise to grab her tiny hand in his own. She was even smaller than Vincent. Then, he nudged his son to do this same.

"Hi, Mrs. Crawley! I'm Vincent, Eloise's new friend," he proclaimed as he stuck his arm straight out for Edith to take it, obviously far less shy than his father. Edith was rather impressed by this bold little boy, and she took his hand and shook it firmly and in a very business-like manner.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Edith said on her and her daughter's behalf. She could tell that even being around her new friend, she was still that shy little Eloise deep down and so terribly uncomfortable around strangers. "But please, call me Edith. Mrs. Crawley is my mother!"

Anthony was somewhat confused, but tried not to let it show. "Of course, and please, call me Anthony. Shall we all head to the garden? I've set out some fresh apple juice from our orchard for us," Anthony offered. His son had told him that Eloise and her mum had just moved back to Yorkshire a few months ago, so he thought it might be nice for them to get to know one another, especially if their children were going to spend so much time together.

"That sounds splendid, Anthony" she replied as the Strallans moved aside to allow them to step further into Locksley. It was a grand, stately home with an airy foyer and dozens of oil paintings of relatives long since passed and victorious hunting scenes. It reminded her little of her childhood home of Downton Abbey. This place was so very warm, both the house itself and the Strallan gentlemen who inhabited it.

Leading them through the library towards a set of French doors, Anthony and Vincent escorted the Crawleys to their garden. Of course, the grounds of Locksley were massive, spanning a few hundred acres in all directions, but nestled right up against the gingerbread walls of the house was a small, enclosed garden, lined by low shrubs and fruit-bearing trees. There was a great deal of shade from the afternoon sun, but there were also rays of light dancing through the limbs of the trees onto the gravel. Edith and Eloise were fond of it as soon as their matching dark eyes settled on it.

"Well, please take a seat, Edith," Anthony said as he pulled out a chair for her. "There is a small jungle gym down by the lake that I built for Vincent a few years ago. If it's all right with you, I thought maybe Eloise might like to explore it a bit. Vincent spends quite a bit of time on it during the warmer months. And it's visible from here so we can keep an eye on them…"

Anthony's unruly blond hair shone in the bright sunlight and the smile he offered her radiated just as much warmth. Edith found herself rather enjoying Yorkshire more than she thought she would when she moved back in June. This place, and the people who lived amongst its hills, was rather spectacular, she thought.

"Sounds like a great idea. What do you say about it, Eloise?" she asked as she turned to her daughter.

But Vincent and Eloise were already halfway down the lawn on their way to the jungle gym, skipping through the long grass hand-in-hand. Apparently, Vincent had thought of the idea even before his father, and Eloise agreed before her mother could ask.

A surprised chuckle escaped her. "Well! It appears that you and I are mere accessories today," Edith quipped as she watched her daughter play with her new friend.

Anthony poured her a glass of cold apple juice and extended it towards her. "Yes, well, I should have known. Vincent has talked of little else besides your daughter since school started. He's rather taken a shine to her, if I may say, a development that has been nothing but good for him. He's had some trouble making friends in the past."

Edith nodded in agreement, turning her eyes from the playing children to this dashing father. "The same goes for Eloise. She's always been a bit reserved, almost to a fault, and hasn't taken an interest in socializing all that much. I must say that I'm glad she found Vincent. He seems to be drawing her out of her shell, so to speak."

They both stared at each other for a moment, their eyes meeting, inspecting, dare I say flirting with the idea of flirting. But it was absurd, Anthony reminded himself. He knew very little about Edith, except that she was the mother of a very wonderful girl, and that he rather fancied staring at her wavy strawberry hair.

"So, ahhh, Vincent tells me that you and Eloise just moved back to Yorkshire," he asked in a rather ungraceful and abrupt change of topic.

She found his awkwardness to be endearing. Edith wasn't aware of it, but Anthony was terribly out of practice in talking to a woman, especially one he found so very attractive. Cursed Strallan awkwardness.

"Yes, that's right. I'm originally from Yorkshire but I moved to London after university. Eloise and I thought it would be a nice change of pace to move back here and be closer to family."

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Lord Grantham by any chance, would you?" he asked. His curiosity got the better of him.

Edith could have sworn she turned a deep shade of scarlet. That was one downside of living near Ripon: the name Crawley attached a certain image around these parts, one that was far more easily shed in London.

"Yes, in fact, he's my father. I'm the middle of three daughters," she explained, hoping that what Anthony had heard about Robert Crawley had only been good news.

He offered her a crooked smile, one that somehow seemed to put her at ease. "Ah, yes, I thought as much; had a bit of a hunch, actually. And now I can certainly see the resemblance between yourself, your daughter, and your Aunt Rosamund. It's uncanny!"

Edith chuckled at this strange and delightful man. He was at the same time gentle and nervous, awkward and quick: a whole host of beautiful contradictions and she found herself hoping that Eloise would want to come over to Locksley with regularity.

"Many people say the three of us look identical, which is rather accurate," she replied as she turned her gaze towards the jungle gym where her daughter and Anthony's son were presently playing tag around it. She had hardly seen Eloise so happy with another child. "And if I may say, your son is the spitting image of you!"

Anthony agreed as his gaze followed Edith's briefly before turning back to watch her while she was looking away. She was so very radiant, and he couldn't quite stand to look away from her for too long.

"Vincent's practically a clone of myself in all ways but temperament. He definitely takes after my ex-wife's father, a more rambunctious man I've never met in my life!"

"Oh, so you're not married?" Edith asked, hardly smooth or casual in her delivery. She cursed herself for asking at all, but she was curious about this man, so she could hardly blame herself for wanting to know a very important, some might say crucial, detail about him.

He shifted in his seat and picked lint from his trousers. "Ahh, no. I'm not any longer. It's just been Vincent and me for a very long time."

"I'm sorry to hear about that. It's just myself and Eloise, so I know how hard it can be raising a child on your own."

Anthony's blue eyes shot up. He tried his level best to appear nonchalant, but oh, how he failed. "Oh, so you're not married?"

She shook her head, noting for later the way he seemed pleased by this information. "Never have been. It has been just the two of us since before Eloise was born."

"Well, then, I apologize for calling you Mrs. Crawley then!" he exclaimed as they both laughed at his minor faux pas. "I had heard that one of Lord Grantham's daughters had married a very distant cousin with the same last name, and mistakenly assumed it was you. My apologies."

Edith dismissed his apology with the wave of the hand. "Oh, no worries! None at all!"

As their children played around the fields of Locksley, Edith and Anthony talked. And talked. And when they were done talking, they talked some more. She told him about her children's book series and the little cottage she had just purchased, and he told her of his family's agricultural equipment factories and of Locksley's long history and its many quirks. They shared stories of their little ones and both the struggles and triumphs of raising them all on their own. It was all so easy, so unprecedentedly effortless. Neither Edith nor Anthony could remember a time when conversation had flowed so naturally.

It didn't feel as though they weren't meeting for the first time; it was as though they were getting reacquainted after years apart.

The pair of them probably could have talked well into the night, after the sun had fallen and the night bugs began their chirping and trills, but Vincent and Eloise were rather famished after hours of romping about the garden.

"Papa, can Eloise and her mummy stay for dinner?" Vincent asked his father as he thumped his head against the man's broad chest in a hug. It was a tactic that very successful; his papa very rarely said no to his boy when he came in for hugs.

Anthony envied the way Vincent knew precisely what he wanted and simply asked for it. He had no idea where the boy had picked _that_ up, but it certainly wasn't from his shy, bookish papa.

He turned to Edith, trying not to appear as though his son's request was the best idea he had heard all day. "Edith, Eloise? Would you like to join us for dinner? I can whip up some salmon and lemon rice in no time, if you'd like."

Mother and daughter exchanged conspiratorial glances before they both turned back to their gentlemen friends and nodded. "That sounds delicious! We'd be delighted to stay for dinner, if it's not an imposition," Edith replied. If she were be completely honest with herself, she would have admitted that the thought of spending just a bit more time with this awkward and kind and handsome man sounded absolutely divine. But how many of us are really that honest with ourselves?

"An imposition? Never!" Anthony retorted. "Not for new friends."

As the baronet cleaned up the glasses and the pitcher of apple juice from the table, so very flustered as he felt Edith's gaze on him, that crooked smile and timid chuckle of his out for the world to see, Vincent watched his papa with keen interest. He had never seen his father act so silly or strange before, not in all his seven years of life.

What on earth could make his gentle papa act like that? Vincent hadn't the faintest clue.


	3. Easy as Pie

A/N: Thank you all so much for the gracious comments for the last chapter! I apologize profusely for my month-long absence. School has been nuts and I just started a clerkship which has eaten up more of my free time. I'm on a short spring break for the next week so maybe I'll get another update of _Now and Then_ up soon. And I promise to read and review all of the AMAZING updates that have been posted in my absence. I'm biased, but I think we really do have the best fandom ;)

Enjoy reading!

* * *

Locksley Manor, so often calm and mellow but for Vincent's occasional whirlwinds of energy, was wonderfully noisy and teeming with chatter. It was alive in a way it hadn't been in a good, long while.

Tucked away in the old manor's informal dining room, as the dark of night surrounded the latticed windows and the night bugs chirped in the nearby fields, the two Strallans and their lovely Crawley companions munched on grilled salmon and lemon rice and freshly baked French bread, conversation flowing between the four of them with ease. Even Eloise, shy as a church mouse, was warming up to this new place, bubbling with conversation as her mother had never seen before. Her chestnut eyes were alert, darting about the dining room, settling on her squirrelly friend and his gentle father, observing them with keenness. And once in a while, a little snicker would escape her.

"Pass the rice, Vincers!" Eloise chirped across the table, a wide smile across her face, her comfort in this new and foreign home apparent. The Crawley ladies sat on one side of the ancient table, rumored to be older than Locksley itself, while the Strallan gentlemen sat opposite of the them, entranced by their dark eyes and their even more endearing charm.

Vincent grabbed the bowl in both of his hands in an instant, hoping to impress Eloise now that she was in his house and amongst his things. It was his first play date after all, and he didn't want to muck it up by being an ungracious host. He struggled with the ceramic bowl, heavy as it was, but with a grunt or two he managed to get it mostly lifted from the table.

"Ahh, I'll help you with that, _Vincers_," Anthony interjected, assisting his son with the bowl of rice before he dropped it, stressing the boy's new nickname in a teasing manner. It pleased him that these two youngsters had nicknames for one another. It was just as childhood should be.

"I got it, Papa!" he insisted. Still, it presented a challenge to him and after trying to give it a go on his own, he acquiesced to the fact that there was just too much rice in that bowl for him to handle. Rice. That's what he'd tell himself.

"Thanks, Vincers and Mr. Strallan." Eloise scooped up another heaping of lemon rice and munched away at it with delight.

Anthony chuckled at her nickname for his son and her formality for himself. It was an amusing dichotomy.

"You can call me Anthony if you'd like, Eloise," he offered warmly, his eyes catching Edith's after Eloise nodded thoughtfully at the suggestion. As soon as their eyes met, Edith flushed and turned the smile that teased at her lips back into her wine glass.

For the first time in a long while, silence settled among the four of them. The littlest ones were preoccupied with their tasty meal, and with Vincent trying to poke Eloise with his shoe from underneath the table, while the adults racked their brains for something, anything to say. It had been a long time since either of them had flirted or even talked at length with the opposite sex. Time had seemed to rust once well-honed skills.

Finally, Vincent, apparently oblivious to his father's plight, piped up with a request. "Hey, Papa, can Eloise and I try your juice?"

"My what?" Anthony asked.

"I think he means the wine," Edith explained on Vincent's behalf. She seemed rather amused with the boy's interest in wine, coupled so sweetly with his innocence and misunderstanding.

A nervous chuckle slipped out of him. "Ah! Well, I suppose it does look a bit like juice. Edith, what do you say? A little sip for our little ones?"

Edith exchanged a glance with her daughter, one that said more than words ever could. The two Crawleys had perfected the art of the purposeful glance. Tonight it said: live a little.

"Why not?" she shrugged with a grin. Then adding to her daughter more sternly, "But _just_ a sip. Not more, little rabbit."

As Anthony and Edith handed their glasses of merlot off to their son and daughter, Eloise and Vincent bit their tongues. Things were going precisely according to plan.

* * *

_Earlier_

The afternoon sun was warm on Vincent and Eloise's backs, the fresh breeze whistling around their ankles and through their hair. It was the perfect late summer day made even more sublime by the company each of them kept.

Nearly worn out from a full day of school and a whole afternoon of playtime, Vincent and Eloise laid side-by-side in the jungle gym Anthony had built when his son was just a little tyke. He had never had someone to play on it with him, but now, even just laying on the old wood next to his new friend felt remarkable. He sighed the most contented sigh that had ever left his little lungs, staring up at the blue sky that mirrored the precise color of his eyes, watching the clouds roll by.

"You know, Louie, I like having you here," he told her sweetly. There was no pretext. He just felt the need to tell his new friend precisely what she meant to him.

Eloise giggled. As wild as Vincent could be, he could be equally gentle. It was a side to him that wasn't immediately apparent, but it lurked there underneath the surface for anyone willing to give him a second glance.

"I like being here, too, Vincers. Your daddy is really nice and this jungle gym is so much fun. I wish we could play here everyday!"

That mischievous eyebrow of Vincent's perked up. "Oh, so you like my papa?" he inquired, rolling to his side so he could gauge Eloise's full reaction. He didn't want to miss a bit.

She nodded, closing her eyes as though soaking up the warmth of the sun that shone upon them. "He's nice like you. And as tall as a tree!"

Fantastic progress. "Have you thought about what I said at school, Louie? About my papa becoming your papa and your mummy becoming my mummy?"

There's that wildness again, Eloise thought to herself. "Your daddy is nice, but what if my mummy doesn't like him…_like that_?"

Vincent furrowed his brow. "Like what?"

Although she didn't have the fullest grasp on what exactly _that_ meant, she had a very basic understanding of the silly things grown-ups did. They would get all sappy and put their mouths on each other's mouths and have babies dropped off at their homes by a very benevolent stork. It was peculiar to young Eloise, but she had seen it firsthand when her Aunt Sybil fell for her grandparent's chauffer, Tom, a few years ago. Grown-ups were strange, she thought, and she sincerely hoped she never had to become one.

"Well, my mummy said that people in love get married, so if we want our parents to get married, they have to be in love first," she tried to explain, hoping to spare Vincent from any of the gory details she had witnessed.

"That's easy! I love my papa tons and tons and it's the easiest thing ever! It'll be super easy to get your mummy to love him, too!" Vincent exclaimed as he sat up, practically ready to claim victory right then and there. His plan was operating more smoothly than even he had envisioned.

Eloise snickered. "There's lots of kinds of love, Vincers. The way you love your daddy isn't the way my mummy would love him. It's different. It's weird, but it's different."

His shoulders slumped. "How is it weird?" he wondered aloud. This conversation was turning out to be quite the education for the little Strallan.

She placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, you don't to know," she told him, hoping to shield him from the strangeness that was grown-up love. "But if we want our mummy and daddy to fall in love, we need to get them to like each other…_like that_ first."

"How do we do that?"

Eloise tilted her head, her finger tapping her chin as she thought on this. "Hmm, I don't know. I suppose my mummy wouldn't have stayed here all this time if she didn't like talking to your daddy. So maybe we just make them spend loads of time together? Get them to _want_ to do things together…"

Vincent jumped to his feet, his excitement no longer able to be contained in a sitting position. "That's brilliant, Louie! I don't know why I didn't think of it! Papa told me that when we're friends with someone, sometimes spending just a little time with them isn't enough so we have to ask them to spend more time with us."

The little girl giggled and joined him in standing. "Okay, so you need to get your daddy to ask my mummy to spend more time with him. Do you know any good ways to do that?"

There came that eyebrow yet again. "I know just the trick, Louie!"

A few short minutes and a puppy-eyed hug later, Vincent managed to get his father to invite Eloise and her mum for dinner. This falling in love business would be easier than pie, the littlest Strallan surmised. Easy, indeed.

* * *

"Just a little sip, okay, sprout?" Anthony warned, getting his napkin ready for the inevitable spill that would come once his son got a hold of the wine glass in his unsteady, energetic hands. Edith did the same with Eloise. Still keeping an eye on their children, Edith and Anthony couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was something so right in watching their son and daughter experience things with someone beside them, to observe their little ones, not as single parents, but together. It was new and unfamiliar, but it was reassuring just the same.

The two youngsters each sampled the merlot, fully expecting it to taste precisely like grape juice and upon the flavor registering on their taste buds, a grimace and a gag followed.

"That's disgusting!" Eloise grunted, sticking her tongue out and looking around the table for anything that would take this wretched taste away from her. Thankfully, a bit of French bread remained on her plate to aid her in this time of crisis and peril. She gobbled it up in one hasty motion.

Vincent coughed and sputtered, all very dramatic of course, pushing the wine glass back into his father's hand. "Why do you like that so much, Papa? It's icky!"

Edith and Anthony were rather amused with the whole situation, though they certainly expected it to pan out in such a way. Wine was an acquired taste, after all. Still, when his blue eyes met her brown gaze across the ancient dining table, the laughter they had succeeded in suppressing up till this point managed to escape. It came out in snorts and grunted chuckles. Vincent and Eloise had never seen their parents act in such a way. If it hadn't been so peculiar, it would have been entertaining.

Regaining some composure, Anthony managed to answer his son's question. "Well, sprout, it's something adults like to drink with dinner or in celebration. Sometimes at other times, too, but mostly at those."

"Grown-ups are strange," he decided after a moment to think about it. From this bizarre falling in love business to this desire to ruin a perfectly good dinner with nasty grape juice, Vincent couldn't quite wrap his head around why anyone would want to grow up. It sounded awful.

"Papa, can I show Eloise my room? I want to show her my fort!" Vincent added, hoping to put an end to this dinner, not only to spend more time with his new friend alone, but to allow their parents the same opportunity. After all, if Eloise was right, perhaps getting them to spend a lot of time together might help them to like each other _like that_, whatever that meant. He still hadn't the faintest clue.

"I suppose if it's all right with Edith and Eloise," Anthony replied, looking to the two nearly identical Crawleys for confirmation.

"Mummy, can I?" Eloise pleaded. She knew it was late, that this play date was already longer than her mother had expected it to be and that it meant that she'd have to spend more time with Vincent's dad, but that was part of the plan all along. It was a good thing their parents were unwitting to it entirely.

"That sounds all right, but not too much longer. It's getting late and we don't want to intrude on Anthony and Vincent much longer."

The words had barely left Edith's mouth before Vincent and Eloise sprinted from their seats on their way to his bedroom. They needed no further confirmation; it was playtime and that was that.

Suddenly left at the table all alone, that cursed Strallan awkwardness seemed to creep back upon Anthony. It was one thing to ignore how he had grown attracted to Edith in the course of a single afternoon when his son was present at the dinner table. It couldn't be flirting if there were children present, he reasoned. But now, staring at the woman in question, her form the only one he could focus on, Anthony felt self-conscious. Edith was stunning, a Venus of a woman, and he was just some plain, old dad. What would she ever see in him?

Not saying another word, he stood and began clearing the plates from the table to take into the kitchen. It was cursed Strallan awkwardness in its finest form.

"Ah, would you like some help?" Edith offered.

Anthony stopped in his tracks, halfway between the kitchen and the informal dining room. "Oh, please. You're our guest tonight. No need."

Edith started clearing her plate and Eloise's anyway. "It's the least I could do for just sitting back and watching while you made that lovely dinner. If it's any consolation, I actually really enjoy washing dishes, so it really wouldn't be work for me anyway."

He chuckled lightly. This Venus was a curious creature, he thought to himself. "Well, I suppose I can't prohibit my guests from doing things they like!"

Together they cleared the table, filled the sink with soap and water, and wrapped up the leftovers. Anthony washed and Edith dried, and slowly but surely, the conversation they had started in the garden without their children present was rekindled. It was very domestic, and if either had the courage to admit at the time, it filled a void in them that they weren't aware was there at all.

"You've done a lovely job raising your daughter," Anthony told her as he lazily ran a sponge along a plate. "She seems very bright, just evidenced in the short time I've known her, and Vincent seems rather taken with her."

Edith blushed at the compliment. She was unaccustomed to receiving praise for her hard work in raising Eloise all on her own. "That's very sweet of you, Anthony. But Eloise makes it very easy; she's a good girl and I couldn't have been luckier in having her as my daughter. And the same goes for you and Vincent. He's a doll!"

Anthony passed the final dish to Edith for her to dry and leaned against the counter. "Well, you have only seen Vincent on his best behavior. He can be quite the rascal when he puts his mind to it."

"_Your_ Vincent? Never!" she teased, daring to nudge his elbow with her own. The brief contact of bony joint against bony joint was practically electric. She pulled away hastily, almost hoping that he didn't even register her pathetic attempt at flirting. It had been a long time since Edith had wanted to tease and flirt with a man and she was admittedly out of practice.

A sheepish grin appeared on Anthony's face. His insides felt like gelatin, all wiggly and unstable. This woman had a tremendous effect on him.

"Yes, well, my son is very much a prankster. He's gotten into a fair bit of mischief, though not at school, thank heavens," Anthony explained as he grabbed the nearly empty bottle of merlot on the counter and poured it into two new glasses, offering one to his companion. It was a wordless transaction, and as awkward as he usually was, Anthony seemed cool and unfazed in that moment; talking about his son had that effect on him. "He likes to pull pranks on myself and on my sister and her kids when they visit from the States. I don't think he'd dare pull one at school, though; Headmaster Carson is an intimidating figure even to me, let alone for all of the little ones in his charge."

Edith sipped at her merlot with much more delight than her daughter had. "What sorts of pranks does he pull?"

"Oh, nothing destructive, of course. He's rather fond of animals and bugs and such, and one time when Jane and her brood were staying with us, he placed a small frog in each of his three cousins' pillowcases right before bedtime. Another time, he released a whole jar of butterflies in my room whilst I was sleeping."

"Well, that one sounds sort of sweet!" Edith countered in Vincent's defense. The notion of having a room full of butterflies seemed rather magical.

"I'm sure he thought it would be sweet," Anthony chuckled as he reminisced. "But when I woke up, a good lot of the butterflies were _not_ fluttering about my bedroom. They had taken up residence on my face!"

Edith burst out into laughter. This poor man, so shy and gentle, at odds with his squirrelly, rambunctious son. But from the way he laughed along with her, from the light in his bright blue eyes when he told the tale about his son's wild mischief, she could tell that Anthony wouldn't have his son any other way, just as she wouldn't have Eloise any other way.

"I suppose we had better watch out for our little ones with Vincent's notoriety as a prankster in mind!" Edith told him as she finished off the wine. Anthony simply smiled at her, his gaze not leaving her eyes as though he were entranced. Her lips were surely reddened, and it wasn't just from the merlot.

Finally, he managed to reply as his mouth finally caught up to his brain. It was miles ahead of him. "I'm sure he's getting Eloise to plot something right now. Be on the lookout for frogs or bugs or anything that crawls!"

Little did they know, but Vincent and Eloise _were_ plotting something at that precise moment, but it didn't involve bugs or creepy-crawlers or wild animals but something far messier: falling in love.

* * *

"Well, here's my bedroom," Vincent announced as he ushered his new friend inside. "Papa made me clean it yesterday so it would look nice when you came over. Usually, it's really messy."

Vincent's room was cozy, with a large trunk full of toys at the foot of his bed and no less than two fully crammed bookshelves and dozens of crayon drawings of himself with his papa and of Locksley and of various bugs and animals adorning the walls. But its most appealing feature was the fort tucked away in the corner opposite his bed.

It was a simple fort, with four chairs forming each corner and a large wooden pole in the middle to prop the six or so blankets that covered it. Inside were twinkling Christmas lights, cushions and pillows, and spare picture books and coloring supplies: an unrivaled sanctuary.

"Papa and I built it over the summer when it rained for a whole week. We like to go outside a lot but we were basically trapped inside so we made this instead! I don't ever want to take it down," he explained as he crawled inside, plopping down on a large cushion. His first play date, while perfect in every which way, had thoroughly worn him out. "Come inside, Louie!"

Eloise crawled inside and nestled on a cushion next to Vincent, snuggling in as she felt a wave of exhaustion come over her. Her bedtime must be drawing near.

"This is so cool, Vincers!" she told him as she admired the warmth it exuded. "I can see why you don't want to take it down."

He nodded as his eyes grew heavy. Still, he had enough energy to finish plotting their scheme; it was of the utmost importance. "You know, I was thinking at dinner that our mummy and daddy probably like each other _like that_. I'm still not sure what _that_ is, but I will say that my papa is acting so strange tonight. He keeps laughing oddly and stuttering all the time and he even let us try that nasty juice! He usually never does that sort of stuff."

Eloise struggled to keep her dark eyes open. "I thought they liked each other _like that_, too. Mummy looked nervous at dinner, which was how Auntie Sybil was like when she was around Uncle Tom at first. I guess that's how it's supposed to work."

"Grown-ups are so weird! Anyway, I think we should try to get them to spend loads of time together. So we should have play dates all the time." Vincent's motivation in suggesting this was two-fold. Of course he wanted to get their parents together; that was paramount. But he also wanted to spend just as much time with Eloise. She was his very best and only friend, after all.

"We should ask to go other places, too. Like we could have play dates at the zoo or something."

"I like the way you think, Louie," Vincent murmured sweetly. But as tired as he was, he couldn't stop his overactive imagination from tinkering away at a devilishly crafted plot. "You know, last year when I was in Year One, our school had a carnival at the beginning of September and they asked everyone's mummy and daddy to help out with a booth or something. We could sign up your mummy and my papa for the same booth!"

"That's a great idea, Vincers! And we could pretend to be sick at school at the same time so they'd have to pick us up together," Eloise offered. She was unaware of how cunning her proposal had been; it had just come to her in a moment of scheming and she went with it.

Vincent looked impressed at her sneaky suggestion. "Louie, have you ever pulled pranks before?"

She was startled by the suggestion. Of course Eloise Crawley, avid reader and shy, little rabbit would never be accused of pulling pranks!

"No, I definitely have _not_ pulled pranks, Vincers!" she countered, almost offended at the mere implication. She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow menacingly for effect.

He snickered, unfazed by her pretend pout. "Well, you must be a natural, then, because that was a really good, sneaky idea! At this rate, we could get your mummy and my papa to get married before we have Christmas holiday!"

Her feigned icy demeanor melted away in large increments at the thought that they might succeed at all, let alone at such an alarmingly fast pace. "You think so?" she wondered aloud.

"I have a good feeling about it, Louie. A super good feeling!"

* * *

The night was quiet and still but for the conversation buzzing in Locksley's library. Edith and Anthony had retreated there after they finished with the dishes, settling down with a pot of tea on opposing sofas.

Edith had told her daughter that she wasn't to play much longer because they wouldn't want to impose upon the Strallans, but apparently, Anthony didn't mind the imposition at all, for he kept trying to prolong the evening at every opportunity. The tea brewing took a few minutes, adding a few more to prepare the perfect cup with milk and honey, and then he showed Edith his collection of first edition books, which took at least another half hour, and now they were nestled on sofa talking yet again. Perhaps an hour had passed, perhaps more.

But she didn't mind; in fact, she had picked up on his subtle way of spending more time with her. It was as obvious as the day, in spite of his attempt to mask his interest. If she were honest with herself, she didn't want the night to end either. But Eloise's bedtime had long since passed and if she didn't put her little girl down to bed soon, she'd be grumpy the next day.

"I hate to put an end to such a wonderful evening, I really do, but I ought to take Eloise home. She is quite the crank when she hasn't had enough sleep," Edith apologized, setting her teacup aside and standing up. Flustered, Anthony mirrored her movements and was now standing inelegantly next to her.

"Of course. I understand. I should put Vincent down as well. Let me show you up to his bedroom; that's where his fort is located."

Anthony led her up Locksley's grand, rickety staircase, and with a hard left and a long trek down the hall, they reached Vincent's dwelling. The door was cracked open just a hair, but it was completely silent on the other side. With a slow, deliberate hand, Anthony pushed the door open and when his eyes settled on the room, the scene that greeted him warmed his heart.

Under the blanketed walls of the fort, Vincent and Eloise were fast asleep, facing each other as though slumber had come upon them in the middle of a conversation, their bare feet crossed and their bodies snuggled deep within a mountain of cushions.

"Looks like the day wiped them out completely," Edith joked in a voice just above a whisper. She looked to Anthony, who flashed her a crooked grin in reply. Noiselessly, Edith maneuvered her way to the edge of the fort where she gathered her daughter into her arms. Eloise was out cold and didn't even move or flutter her eyes as her mother peeled her away from Vincent and his lovely fort.

With Eloise slumped against Edith's shoulder and Vincent still fast asleep in underneath his fort, Anthony crawled inside and on top of the cushions, uncomfortable as it was for someone of his size, and pressed a kiss on his son's forehead before he pulled a blanket over his little body.

"Goodnight, my little sprout," he whispered with fatherly gentility.

"'Night, Papa," Vincent mumbled, halfway between sleeping and waking, before rolling further into the cushions and burrowing his face into a pillow.

Edith witnessed the whole scene unfold, marveling at Anthony's patient and loving way with his son. He was such a good papa, far better than most, and that he did it all on his own was even more remarkable. She squeezed a sleeping Eloise just a little closer to her, as though love had filled the entirety of Vincent's room and poured out of herself as well.

Anthony backed out of the fort and stood to full height, albeit with an ever so slight stoop, and gestured for Edith to lead the way back downstairs. With due care, he shut the door behind him and quietly retreated down the hall, hoping not to wake either of the sleeping little ones in his home.

Back downstairs, Anthony gathered Edith's purse and jacket for her, as her arms were rather occupied holding a sleeping little girl. It took a bit of coordination on their part to get everything settled, fishing out car keys and opening the door to her Mini Cooper so Edith could get Eloise buckled up, but apart from some nervous chuckles and some stuttering on Anthony's part, it went rather smoothly.

Having someone to help out with this insane task called parenthood, even if briefly, did not go unnoticed by either of them.

Once Eloise was tucked into her seat properly, Edith turned to Anthony. His blue eyes were darker without the benefit of the sun to brighten them, but they were still just as kind. She couldn't look away from his gaze. If she had been younger, if she hadn't been a mother, if this had just been a very nice first encounter filled with dinner and wine and scads of conversation, she just might have stood on the tips of her toes for a goodnight kiss.

But Edith stopped herself. Anthony was merely the father of her daughter's new friend. She didn't want to interfere in her daughter's relationship with Vincent by messing things up with his father. As history would demonstrate, Edith didn't exactly have the best track record with men. She had practically given up on the whole lot of them categorically when Eloise was born, swearing them off with scorn after what happened with Michael.

Still, there was something different about Anthony Strallan, not just in his peculiar way of grinning and stuttering and laughing sheepishly, but in him generally.

So, she settled for a friendly arm rub. Of course, she thought it was a gesture reserved only for friends, but when she felt the firmness of his muscles underneath his thin, navy sweater, Edith wished she had gone in for a handshake instead. The memory of his sinewy arms would surely haunt her tonight in ways a handshake would not have.

"Goodnight, Anthony," she all but squeaked, affected by him more than she should have been. "Thank you for everything."

If he was aware of her current state of embarrassment, he did a superb job appearing aloof. Or perhaps it was his sheer ineptitude with the female species that prevented him from catching on. Either way, his gentle reply dampened Edith's nerves.

"It was my pleasure, Edith. If Eloise wants to play with Vincent again, our door is always open to both of you."

Edith flashed him a watery smile in reply and scurried over to the driver's side of her car with the utmost haste. She tried not to notice how he watched her, how his eyes followed the car as she pulled out of Locksley's long drive, or how he timidly waved goodbye.

Looking back at her sleeping daughter, Edith murmured, "What have you gotten us into, little rabbit? What on earth?"


End file.
